


Dawn

by Archaeopteryx



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, Healing, Home, M/M, Nature, also some kissing in the grass, healing & recovery through familiar endemics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22171357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archaeopteryx/pseuds/Archaeopteryx
Summary: Dedue's first spring in Duscur since the Tragedy has him feeling uncharacteristically giddy, as he discovers that more of his home survived than he thought.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 6
Kudos: 92





	Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> for Dedue Week, Day 1|Nature and Day 2|Home
> 
> late because I've been sick, which is, frankly, homophobic
> 
> Thanks to [casualbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualbird/) and [FE3H Rarepair Port](https://discord.gg/XB3fNjM) for editing and encouragement

Spring came to Duscur like a painter's brush. Each day streaked the mountains with a new wash of color. In little more than two weeks, a frozen winter landscape erupted into buzzing, chattering, fragrant life, and each new flower that greeted the returning sun eased a little of the freezing ache in Dedue's heart.

A mist of tiny white blossoms replaced the morning frosts; a few days later, crocuses raised their heads like sprites summoned from the earth, dotting the hills in delicate blue and sunny orange. Ferns unfolded from winter dormancy into newborn green, and fragrant morning-glory vines garlanded the unrestored structures in white and royal purple. Fruiting trees filled the air with petals in all the colors of the dawn, boughs heavy-laden with large blooms or long plumes that swayed in the spring winds like the braided hair of dancers.

With the flowers came a riot of animal life. The air filled with the hum of insects rushing to make the most of the sudden glut of nectar. Tiny, bright-feathered warblers flickered through the brush and the branches or swept through the air above the fields and streets, snatching insects for the squalling nests that suddenly filled each hedge and unused rafter. Hummingbirds chased each other from blossom to blossom, throats flashing crimson and indigo in the sunlight, and hovered at the delicate blown-glass feeders hung by the townspeople. All manner of beasts emerged from their winter shelters, either to graze on the new growth or to prey upon the grazers — the cries of young hawks echoed high across the mountains, driving field mice and squirrels to bolt into hiding. Elk and deer moved over the fields in cautious, long-legged herds and scraped bloody velvet from new antlers. Once, Dedue caught the great lumbering shadow of a bear in the dark pines.

One morning he woke into darkness — alert, but calm, not from any nightmare or at any disturbance. Impulse compelled him to slip silently from the bed he and Dimitri shared, wincing at cold stone beneath his bare feet, and step outside the cottage for a deep breath of clean, pre-dawn air.

The waxing half-moon painted the morning in silver light and pure black shadow. The most daring of the morning-glories had already opened; fragrant, liquid night scoured Dedue's mouth and nose, chilled to the bottom of his lungs and washed over his soul, soothing wounds that had too long been bared to the light.

He closed his eyes, opened his arms to the moonlight and the prickle of every tiny hair, released that cold breath slowly through his nose, and returned inside as silently as he had left.

"Dimitri," he murmured, soft in the quiet dark. When his husband stirred, grumbling, Dedue took his hand, fond smile hidden in the dim light. "Wake up."

Dimitri's eye flicked open. He shot upright, and his free hand seized Dedue's shoulder in an iron grip. "What is it? What's — "

"Nothing," said Dedue, cutting through the rush of questions. He kissed Dimitri’s cheek; Dimitri sagged against his shoulder with a sleepy groan. Dedue shook him gently. “Dress yourself. I have something to show you.”

“Wh’s time?”

“Near dawn.”

“Can it wait?” Dimitri whined, nosing against Dedue’s neck. He made a tempting argument, but the night air had filled Dedue with singing quicksilver, so he wrapped both arms around his husband’s waist and hauled him like a flour sack from the bed. Dimitri spluttered, squawked, kicked like the world’s gangliest wildcat; Dedue just laughed and spun through a parody of a dance step before he let Dimitri’s feet touch the floor. “Saints, what’s gotten into you?”

Spring, starlight, morning-glories in the pre-dawn chill. “I have to show you something,” Dedue repeated. He navigated the room by memory and moon-shadow, retrieving clothes for each of them. “We’ll need to hurry if we’re to make it before dawn.”

“Before … ugh, why?”

“You’ll see, if you dress yourself.” Dedue held out Dimitri’s shirt and trousers with a flourish and a shallow, mocking bow. “Your Majesty.”

“Don’t _do_ that,” Dimitri complained, but he took the clothes and peeled off his nightshirt while Dedue chuckled. The pale silver light cast the shift of skin and muscle in stark relief, every lean line sharpened to a cutting edge. Dedue almost — _almost_ found himself distracted, but there would be other nights with Dimitri, and the dawn that called him would not wait. He tore his gaze from the moving marble statue of his husband, and quickly changed into his own dress and leggings. 

He danced from foot to foot by the door while Dimitri laced his boots. Must it take so long? He’d never noticed it before. He caught his husband’s hands and tugged him over the threshold as soon as Dimitri rose. “Quickly,” he said, eager and breathless as Dimitri stumbled after him. “Follow me.”

“I’m following! Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” Dedue spun on his heel, trusting Dimitri to follow him into the greying dawn. Their breath misted in the air, and the moisture tickled the unshaven stubble on Dedue’s chin and cheeks, but the gardens glittered with spiders’ webs, not frost. The more timid stars had faded from the sky, and the sun remained a deep blue glow in the east, but the moon offered light enough to navigate by. Birds stirred in the trees, though only a few drowsy calls rang through the air; hardy, sweet-voiced thrushes beckoned the other birds to rise, but at this hour even they would rather sleep. The windows of the restored houses remained dim, and soon enough, the pair of early-risers left those behind.

Dedue knew these slopes like his own scars. The trail remained where it had always been — brush encroached onto the path, and some sections had collapsed, but it welcomed his tread as an old friend, and he found his footing sure even in the bleary half-light. They wound up and around the side of the mountain, climbing the steep slopes with a patient, gradual incline. Dimitri struggled, stumbling on the uneven ground, and more than once Dedue had to pause while he caught up.

“Tell me we’re not climbing the whole mountain,” he said between breaths while Dedue helped him across one of the washouts.

“We’re not.”

“You still won’t tell me where we’re going.”

“You’ll see,” Dedue said, letting the mischief into his voice. Dimitri sighed, but he smiled, face flushed with the chill.

The sky grew lighter with each breath. The east lit up with the colors of roses, pink and orange. Only the brightest stars lingered in a luminous blue, and the moon had vanished behind the mountain. Gold touched the mountain’s snowy peak, though the path still twined through the cool shadows of the middle slopes.

They emerged from a stand of dark, noble pines, trunks straight as the gods’ arrows and fragrant needles thick and soft on the ground, onto a rocky outcropping that overlooked the valley. The trail wound onward and further up the mountain, but it was here Dedue chose to stop.

“Here?” Dimitri asked, breathless after the long climb. Dedue nodded.

Suddenly ill at ease, he reached for Dimitri’s hand. Dimitri squeezed his, and butted his head against Dedue’s shoulder.

“I’m here, love.”

“I know.” Deep breath. “I know.”

The slope curved such that, looking back the way they’d come, the smoke of a few early-morning hearths wove up from the town. Blue shadows lingered at the base of the valley. A cold mist hid the sloping fields below, and the air held a bitter chill. The sky in the east deepened to burning orange and bloody pink, but — Dedue drew a breath through his nose — the light was gold, the air was free of smoke, and the only voices were the wind and the chorus of the waking birds.

“I miscalculated,” he said, his throat tight. “I thought the walk would take longer.”

Dimitri leaned against him. “Mm. Longer legs, now.”

A sliver of fire broke the horizon. Sunlight slid down the mountain like a lover, seeping into the stone and the trees’ dark leaves. Dedue wrapped his arm around Dimitri’s shoulders, while Dimitri settled his hand on Dedue’s waist. Side by side, sharing warmth, they waited while the sun climbed above the horizon.

In the light of dawn, the mist burned away like a nightmare. “Oh,” Dimitri breathed, fully awake and bolt upright.

Dedue said nothing. It was all he could do to breathe, knuckles pressed to his lips in a silent prayer.

The meadow blazed with a blue so deep and bright it seared the eye. The insides of each blossom flashed with a waxy coating, so gentle sunlight rippled across them like the distant sea. Intermixed with the wildflowers, a prickly bush had turned its small, leathery leaves a rich clay-red, and stalks that yesterday had resembled any other stiff wintry grass burst with a blossoming yellow brighter than any gold — Duscur's colors brilliant across her slopes, but it was the blue in particular that seized Dedue's gaze.

“Oh,” Dimitri said, with more voice.

Dedue turned his eyes skyward as the colors began to smear and sting. The prayers spilled free as the sun rose higher — for the sky, for the earth, to the god of things that grow, the god of mercy and lost souls, and any others he could think to thank; every one that had watched over him, kept him alive despite it all, to bring him back here.

He stepped forward in a daze, scrambled down the short, steep incline, waded into the meadow and sank to his knees on the bank of a stream. Dimitri shuffled after him through the knee-high grasses. His hand pressed between Dedue's shoulderblades, an anchor for his trembling. 

Dedue cupped a bright blossom between his fingers, ran his thumb across the inside of one thick, gleaming petal — smoother than velvet or silk, waterproof to guide moisture to the plant's thick, prickly stem and pollen to the black stamen. Gold shone like a miniature sun at the flower's center. Dedue tipped the plant gently towards Dimitri, showing him its shining heart. "Molinare," he said, his voice small and clear even as his mind reeled.

"Miller's flowers," Dimitri echoed. Dedue nodded.

"They bloom at the height of the thaw and the spring winds." He parted the other stems, exposing the flower's sturdy base. "Their roots run deep, and anchor streambeds during the floods. So — miller's blossom. Molinare."

He released the flower and braced his hands on his knees, knuckles pale against his shaking. Dimitri waited, undemanding, while Dedue struggled to answer the obvious question.

"They name this valley," he croaked. His tongue stumbled as if frostbitten, thick and clumsy in his frozen jaw. "These — with the gold center — they grow only here. On this slope of this mountain."

His voice broke. Tears overflowed, hot and clean as the sun that warmed his shoulders, a kind and scouring flood.

"I thought they all _burned_."

Dimitri knelt beside him. His arms settled around Dedue's back, and his chin rested on Dedue's shoulder. "You brought me here anyway," he said, hesitant.

"I needed … I hoped … " He could not explain what he could not make sense of himself — that he'd woken in the grip of a past where these fields had never burned and a flower symbolized nothing but itself, and that even now that beautiful vision warred with the truth. He dragged his fingers over the deep gouge across his ribs, testament to his near-death in Fhirdiad, to ground himself in the reality of the present, but the streaks of brilliant blue did not vanish from the meadow. "There are so many."

Dimitri pressed a kiss to his temple. “It’s alright," he murmured. Dedue shook his head.

“You misunderstand,” he said, when he could speak through his shaking. “I do not weep from grief. This is — this is _joy_.”

The steel corpse of a Kleiman mining operation rusted at the base of the slope. Young fresh-green pines reached skyward through the decaying structure. Rain and meltwater filled the quarry into a still lake that mirrored the clear sky above. Molinare ringed its scarred edges with a defiant blaze of blue-and-gold. A bitter victory, one that should never have had to be won, but a victory despite everything.

Dedue tipped his head back, pressed his wrist to his eyes against the glare, bared his teeth to the rising sun and let the laugh roll deep and fierce as thunder from his belly. Warm light and a cool breeze dried his tears, but nothing stemmed the flow until he chose to wipe his face and rest his head on Dimitri's shoulder.

"Thank you for showing me," Dimitri said against the crown of his head.

"Thank you," Dedue said, sniffing back a few lingering tears. "For being here with me. To witness this triumph." He kissed the side of Dimitri's neck with a soft chuckle. "Even if you would rather sleep."

"And miss this? Not if the Goddess Herself commanded it."

Dedue laughed again, giddy with the heady heat of morning sun. He cast about for a molinare with more than one head; when he found one within reach, he leaned over to pinch off its lowest stem where it joined the main stalk. Carefully, he stripped the coarse bristles from its stem with his thumbnail, then tucked the bloom behind Dimitri's ear.

"There,” he said, and took Dimitri’s face in both hands, and kissed him.

Dimitri looped his arms around Dedue's waist, and sighed when Dedue pushed him down into the grass. His hair spilled loose and light through the soft spring-green stems. The molinare burned against it, and his eye shone to match, and when they parted for air he smiled his toothy, crooked smile and said, "Well?"

"Did you know I’ve dreamed of this?” Dedue murmured, pressing his forehead to Dimitri’s. “Of laying you down in this same meadow, and taking you for my own? As my husband, and a man, and nothing more or less?”

Dimitri’s breath caught; his eye widened, and the tip of his tongue darted out across his lower lip. “I am already yours,” he breathed.

Dedue kissed him again, slow and soft as velvet, and for a time there was no sound but the wind on the meadow, and the stream in its bed, and the dawn-chorus at its height.

— until Dimitri tugged at the hem of Dedue’s skirt. Dedue brushed his hands away and rolled off of him; Dimitri propped himself on his elbows with an inquisitive whine. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s work to be done,” Dedue said with a teasing smile. “We’ll be missed if we’re not back soon.”

Dimitri slouched back against the grass. “You’re cruel,” he groaned, though a grin twitched at the corner of his mouth. Dedue chuckled and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Tonight,” he promised, “and let it be sweeter for the wait.”

“Mm, when you put it like that … ” Dimitri accepted Dedue’s hand as he got to his feet, and gave a startled squeak when Dedue used the leverage to pull him into a tight hug. “Love?”

“It’s alright,” Dedue said. He shut his eyes and relaxed into his husband’s arms — let himself be held, for once, and let his spine and shoulders fall slack, trusting Dimitri to hold him. Dimitri sighed and nuzzled against Dedue’s shoulder, his arms steady around Dedue’s back.

For once — for the first time in ten years — absolutely nothing was wrong.

He held Dimitri's hand all the way back to the village.

The sun had finished rising by the time they arrived. Most of the town gathered at the roundhouse to break their fast and plan the day's work, and the couple joined them to a chorus of warm greetings. A rooster crowed persistently from the building's roof, and a rich, fragrant steam rose from the central cookfire. A few eyes lingered on the molinare still tucked behind Dimitri's ear. A few eyebrows raised, questioning.

Dedue wrapped his arm around Dimitri's waist, kissed his forehead, and smiled back at any disapproving looks. Someone whistled; Dimitri flushed all the way into his ears, and the tension dissolved into laughter. Dedue hid a smile behind his hand as he rose to fill their plates, abandoning his husband to the tide of chatter.

He broke his fast among friends; he held the man he loved without fear; molinare bloomed on the mountains, and Dedue Molinaro was home.


End file.
